My Novel
Chapter 153 : "We arrived at the house. I dismounted to open the carriage-door. The count gave

"We arrived at the house. I dismounted to open the carriage-door. The count gave me one look. 'Beppo says you have known the sea.'

"'Excellency, yes. I am a Genoese.'

"'Ha! how is that? Beppo is a Lombard.'--Admire the readiness with which I redeemed my blunder.

"'Excellency, it pleased Heaven that Beppo should be born in Lombardy, and then to remove my respected parents to Genoa, at which city they were so kindly treated that my mother, in common grat.i.tude, was bound to increase its population. It was all she could do, poor woman. You see she did her best.'

"The count smiled, and said no more. The door opened, I followed him; your daughter can tell you the rest."

"And you risked your life in that den of miscreants! n.o.ble friend!"

"Risked my life,--no; but I risked the count's. There was one moment when my hand was on my trigger, and my soul very near the sin of justifiable homicide. But my tale is done. The count is now on the river, and will soon be on the salt seas, though not bound to Norway, as I had first intended. I could not inflict that frigid voyage on his sister. So the men have orders to cruise about for six days, keeping aloof from sh.o.r.e, and they will then land the count and the marchesa, by boat, on the French coast. That delay will give time for the prince to arrive at Vienna before the count could follow him."

"Would he have that audacity?"

"Do him more justice! Audacity, faith! he does not want for that. But I dreaded not his appearance at Vienna with such evidence against him.

I dreaded his encountering the prince on the road, and forcing a duel, before his character was so blasted that the prince could refuse it; and the count is a dead shot of course,--all such men are!"

"He will return, and you--"

"I! Oh, never fear; he has had enough of me. And now, my dear friend,--now that Violante is safe once more under your own roof; now that my honoured mother must long ere this have been satisfied by Leonard, who left us to go to her, that our success has been achieved without danger, and, what she will value almost as much, without scandal; now that your foe is powerless as a reed floating on the water towards its own rot, and the Prince Von -------is perhaps about to enter his carriage on the road to Dover, charged with the mission of restoring to Italy her worthiest son,--let me dismiss you to your own happy slumbers, and allow me to wrap myself in my cloak, and s.n.a.t.c.h a short sleep on the sofa, till yonder gray dawn has mellowed into riper day.

My eyes are heavy, and if you stay here three minutes longer, I shall be out of reach of hearing, in the land of dreams. Buona notte!"

"But there is a bed prepared for you."

Harley shook his head in dissent, and composed himself at length on the sofa.

Riccabocca, bending, wrapped the cloak round his guest, kissed him on the forehead, and crept out of the room to rejoin Jemima, who still sat up for him, nervously anxious to learn from him those explanations which her considerate affection would not allow her to ask from the agitated and exhausted Violante. "Not in bed!" cried the sage, on seeing her.

"Have you no feelings of compa.s.sion for my son that is to be? Just, too, when there is a reasonable probability that we can afford a son?"

Riccabocca here laughed merrily, and his wife threw herself on his shoulder, and cried for joy.

But no sleep fell on the lids of Harley L'Estrange. He started up when his host had left him, and paced the apartment, with noiseless but rapid strides. All whim and levity had vanished from his face, which, by the light of the dawn, seemed death-like pale. On that pale face there was all the struggle and all the anguish of pa.s.sion.

"These arms have clasped her," he murmured; "these lips have inhaled her breath! I am under the same roof, and she is saved,--saved evermore from danger and from penury, and forever divided from me. Courage, courage!

Oh, honour, duty; and thou, dark memory of the past,--thou that didst pledge love at least to a grave,--support, defend me! Can I be so weak!"

The sun was in the wintry skies when Harley stole from the house. No one was stirring except Giacomo, who stood by the threshold of the door, which he had just unbarred, feeding the house-dog. "Good-day," said the servant, smiling. "The dog has not been of much use, but I don't think the padrone will henceforth grudge him a breakfast. I shall take him to Italy, and marry him there, in the hope of improving the breed of our native Lombard dogs."

"Ah," said Harley, "you will soon leave our cold sh.o.r.es. May suns.h.i.+ne settle on you all!" He paused, and looked up at the closed windows wistfully.

"The signorina sleeps there," said Giacomo, in a husky voice, "just over the room in which you slept."

"I knew it," muttered Harley. "An instinct told me of it. Open the gate; I must go home. My excuses to your lord, and to all."

He turned a deaf ear to Giacomo's entreaties to stay till at least the signorina was up,--the signorina whom he had saved. Without trusting himself to speak further, he quitted the demesne, and walked with swift strides towards London.

CHAPTER X.

Harley had not long reached his hotel, and was still seated before his untasted breakfast, when Mr. Randal Leslie was announced. Randal, who was in the firm belief that Violante was now on the wide seas with Peschiera, entered, looking the very personation of anxiety and fatigue.

For like the great Cardinal Richelieu, Randal had learned the art how to make good use of his own delicate and somewhat sickly aspect. The cardinal, when intent on some sanguinary scheme requiring unusual vitality and vigour, contrived to make himself look a harmless sufferer at death's door. And Randal, whose nervous energies could at that moment have whirled him from one end of this huge metropolis to the other, with a speed that would have outstripped a prize pedestrian, now sank into a chair with a jaded weariness that no mother could have seen without compa.s.sion. He seemed since the last night to have galloped towards the last stage of consumption.

"Have you discovered no trace, my Lord? Speak, speak!"

"Speak! certainly. I am too happy to relieve your mind, Mr. Leslie. What fools we were! Ha, ha!"

"Fools--how?" faltered Randal.

"Of course; the young lady was at her father's house all the time."

"Eh? what?"

"And is there now."

"It is not possible!" said Randal, in the hollow, dreamy tone of a somnambulist. "At her father's house, at Norwood! Are you sure?"

"Sure."

Randal made a desperate and successful effort at self-control. "Heaven be praised!" he cried. "And just as I had begun to suspect the count, the marchesa; for I find that neither of them slept at home last night; and Levy told me that the count had written to him, requesting the baron to discharge his bills, as he should be for some time absent from England."

"Indeed! Well, that is nothing to us,--very much to Baron Levy, if he executes his commission, and discharges the bills. What! are you going already?"

"Do you ask such a question? How can I stay? I must go to Norwood,--must see Violante with my own eyes! Forgive my emotion--I--I--"

Randal s.n.a.t.c.hed at his hat and hurried away. The low scornful laugh of Harley followed him as he went.

"I have no more doubt of his guilt than Leonard has. Violante at least shall not be the prize of that thin-lipped knave. What strange fascination can he possess, that he should thus bind to him the two men I value most,--Audley Egerton and Alphonso di Serrano? Both so wise too!--one in books, one in action. And both suspicious men! While I, so imprudently trustful and frank--Ah, that is the reason; our natures are antipathetic; cunning, simulation, falsehood, I have no mercy, no pardon for these. Woe to all hypocrites if I were a grand Inquisitor!"

"Mr. Richard Avenel," said the waiter, throwing open the door.

Harley caught at the arm of the chair on which he sat, and grasped it nervously, while his eyes became fixed intently on the form of the gentleman who now advanced into the room. He rose with an effort.

"Mr. Avenel!" he said falteringly. "Did I hear your name aright?

Avenel!"

"Richard Avenel, at your service, my Lord," answered d.i.c.k. "My family is not unknown to you; and I am not ashamed of my family, though my parents were small Lansmere tradesfolks, and I am--ahem!--a citizen of the world, and well-to-do!" added d.i.c.k, dropping his kid gloves into his hat, and then placing the hat on the table, with the air of an old acquaintance who wishes to make himself at home. Lord L'Estrange bowed and said, as he reseated himself (d.i.c.k being firmly seated already), "You are most welcome, sir; and if there be anything I can do for one of your name--"

"Thank you, my Lord," interrupted d.i.c.k. "I want nothing of any man. A bold word to say; but I say it. Nevertheless, I should not have presumed to call on your Lords.h.i.+p, unless, indeed, you had done me the honour to call first at my house, Eaton Square, No. ---- I should not have presumed to call if it had not been on business,--public business, I may say--NATIONAL business!"

Harley bowed again. A faint smile flitted for a moment to his lip, but, vanis.h.i.+ng, gave way to a mournful, absent expression of countenance, as he scanned the handsome features before him, and, perhaps, masculine and bold though they were, still discovered something of a family likeness to one whose beauty had once been his ideal of female loveliness; for suddenly he stretched forth his hand, and said, with more than his usual cordial sweetness, "Business or not business, let us speak to each other as friends,--for the sake of a name that takes me back to Lansmere, to my youth. I listen to you with interest."

Richard Avenel, much surprised by this unexpected kindliness, and touched, he knew not why, by the soft and melancholy tone of Harley's voice, warmly pressed the hand held out to him; and seized with a rare fit of shyness, coloured and coughed and hemmed and looked first down, then aside, before he could find the words which were generally ready enough at his command.

"You are very good, Lord L'Estrange; nothing can be handsomer. I feel it here, my Lord," striking his buff waistcoat,--"I do, 'pon my honour. But not to waste your time (time's money), I come to the point. It is about the borough of Lansmere. Your family interest is very strong in that borough; but excuse me if I say that I don't think you are aware that I too have cooked up a pretty considerable interest on the other side. No offence,--opinions are free. And the popular tide runs strong with us--I mean with me--at the impending crisis,--that is, at the next election.

Now, I have a great respect for the earl your father, and so have those who brought me into the world--my father, John, was always a regular good Blue,--and my respect for yourself since I came into this room has gone up in the market a very great rise indeed,--considerable. So I should just like to see if we could set our heads together, and settle the borough between us two, in a snug private way, as public men ought to do when they get together, n.o.body else by, and no necessity for that sort of humbug, which is so common in this rotten old country. Eh, my Lord?"